Rapture
by Hawkeye116
Summary: The twists and tangles of love in a fragmented, postwar world. She's not ready for lifelong commitment, and he's not exactly beloved in his new role as Fire Lord. They'll cope, though. They have to. Picks up where 321 left off. Zutara. Some Kataang/Maiko
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I started writing this back when the finale started. It's approximately halfway to seventy-five percent done. In total it's about 12000 words so far that I have written--and counting! I haven't really tried a long fic like this before and actually stuck with it, but I'm certain that this one will be finished. And that's exciting.

* * *

Rapture

* * *

It's really the simplest moments in life when she's the happiest. Stupid things like bad drawings and complaints about artistic talent (or lack thereof) fill her with so much joy and hope that she wants to cuddle herself up in a ball and cry for the sheer beauty of the moment. Here in the waning hours of the day, in a small tea shop in Ba Sing Se, here is life at its fullest, its most beautiful. Here is the ultimate state of contentment, the utter acclimation of peace: This is what she fought the war for. This is everything, everything, even though it's nothing, just Sokka being stupid again.

Nothing is everything, in these blazing hours before dusk.

She kisses Aang with assertiveness unknown to him, with a need for love and for peace and forever stopping this moment in time, freezing it so all she can do is breathe and bask in dying sunlight. She wants to absorb his very being into her, to swallow him whole (she knows the thought is strange but it feels so fitting, to take all of him and the world and everything into her, to ingrain this whole moment and leave it etched on her heart for eternity).

She kisses him not because she loves him, specifically, but because she loves everything; and here someone is waiting, and here she can finally express her full love of these moments at dusk and her love of everyone, everyone who is doing nothing and still making her love them. How she has longed for a moment like this—a giddy childish feeling of stopping time, an adolescent feeling of raw passion and young love, a timeworn feeling of utter contentment.

She is a child, a teenager, and an elder all at once; she is the Avatar's girl, everyone's girl, everyone's lover, because she loves everyone and everything. She loves the world, and it is such a strange sentiment.

It is home, she realizes. It is the feeling of home.

"Katara?" Aang asks her softly, breaking the kiss. She keeps her tight embrace around him, never wanting to let go of this moment of peace, never wanting to leave Sokka, Toph, Suki, Iroh, Zuko, all of them. She _loves_ them.

"What, Aang?" she murmurs quietly into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut and mourning the warmth vanishing from her skin as she feels the sun set. She's never noticed just how sobering it is to feel the sun pull back its warm rays and abandon her to the cool night. She begins to miss the warmth before it is even completely gone.

"Katara," he says again, struggling to break free of her grasp, "Katara, Katara, what's wrong, you're _crying_—"

Yes, she's crying, she's crying, why didn't she notice before? Her shoulders heave heavily, and her spirit sinks as the sun retreats from her skin, and all she has is body heat, warm but not nearly enough, and why is this moment ending so soon?

She lets go and falls to her knees, defeated, and spirits why did the moment leave, why did the sun flee, why did Aang break away?

"Katara!" Aang shouts. She hears the confusion and concern in his voice, and it's enough to break her and send her to the rough stone ground. She lies on her side, tears flowing out of her eyes and dribbling down her chin and across the bridge of her nose. She fingers the cracks between the stone, relishing its roughness, suddenly struck by how wonderful these old stones are. Her eyes close again—her body shakes once or twice, and only when someone shouts out does she really know what's physically happening to her.

Her hand flops onto the ground, palm facing up. Her hair shadows her face, and her breathing is quiet and steady if not soft.

"Katara," a voice whispers in her ear, and there's a hand on her shoulder (it's so _warm_, as warm as the sun).

"Come on, let's get her inside," orders the same voice, strong and clearheaded. The hand extends to an arm and moves under her neck (and another arm snakes under her knees), and then she is a limp doll in a loving child's arms, the dawn held softly in the sun's warm rays. Another hand touches her shoulder, her face, and it's such a gentle hand, she wants to weep anew.

She smiles to herself. "I'll be okay," she mouths breathily (her throat is sore).

The hand leaves her face as she curls into the lingering essence of the sun's rays, and she wishes that life weren't so beautiful and precious, so fragile, so easy to lose and so very, very easy to mourn.

She wishes she could sometimes just let things go, but it's not that simple.

It never is.

* * *

The supreme irony of the situation never fails to astound if not amuse him. For his whole past life, he's been unlucky and disowned, hated by the Avatar and the others. Yet now he sits by the sleeping body of the Avatar's love, her brother next to him, a weighty title resting on his shoulders (_Fire Lord_—he will never get used to it), everything in the world he wants.

It strikes him that this isn't the first time he's stayed up all night next to a sleeping person, waiting to make sure that everything is all right. He's done it twice, both times to apologize for a grand-scale wrong.

Both times, he was forgiven.

That's the kind of love he doesn't understand—he will never completely come to terms with himself about why he _deserves_ such love, when all he's done his whole life is mess up one thing after another. Uncle considers him an idealist. Katara considers him a redeemed enemy. Both consider him _good_.

He will never merit their love, or their forgiveness, but he can appreciate it and reciprocate it in small ways like staying by their side the whole night, watching over them.

Because he cares. He really, really cares.

He doesn't know what happened between Katara and Aang (he has an idea but he won't say anything). He just knows that something's wrong with Katara, but she'll be better, and something's wrong with Aang, but he'll be better too once he sleeps it off tonight.

Aang's missing presence disconcerts Zuko, but he's not going to ask. Everybody gets a little insecure from time to time, he supposes, and people need their distance.

He's just not one of those people that will distance himself from someone that needs him. So he stays by her side the whole night, not really minding even as Sokka falls asleep on his shoulder. For tonight, he'll tolerate it, because it's really all he can do to repay everything Katara's done for him.

He smiles wryly, thinking he'll always be in debt.

* * *

The two of them laugh gaily like the children they know they are, reveling in the feel of the cold wind biting at their skin and the butterflies in their stomachs as they fly over the snow. Katara giggles to herself, lowering her head closer to the penguin in an attempt to increase the aerodynamics. She knows she's not in the air but it's fun to think of penguin sledding in terms of flying, the thrilling kind of flying that only Aang is capable of. He's the one that soars beside her—well, above her now, for his penguin glides above her like penguins did in the old days—but soon even he falls back to the snow, back to the earth, back to the land where it all began.

The day is warm and clear, with no clouds to mar the beauty of the sky or to interrupt the joy of nostalgia. Let's go back to the time it started, she thinks, when things were simpler and we were so very happy.

But she'd never go back, never again, because now is bliss, because now is peace, because now is now and she can't ever go back even if she wanted to. Now she's older and wiser and more powerful and in love.

_In love_. How weird that sounds.

She shakes her head as her penguin slides to a stop. Silly her, she was always in love.

She is simply in love with life.

"Hey Katara!" Aang calls to her, laughing and enjoying himself. His face flushes from the cold, but Katara knows it also has something to do with her, even though they've acknowledged each other, even though they are together. Things haven't changed at all—Aang still trips over himself from time to time, and he's still adorable and shy and forever the idealist. He's young and beautiful and naïve, and she can't help but admire that his purity endures in such a corrupt world.

She waves to him, smiling warmly, and Aang beams in response. He trudges his way to her through the melting snow after giving his penguin an affectionate pat. His stance shifts, begins to bear a dominating sort of presence. If she hadn't been paying so much attention she wouldn't have noticed the difference, but the change is there, and it disconcerts her even though she knows it's only Aang and he loves her and he'd never, never hurt her. Deciding to ignore her irrationality, she shoves the feeling to the back of her mind, maintaining the open expression on her face.

"Katara," Aang murmurs quietly, taking her hand in his insistently. He keeps getting closer and closer, and she yields to him as he captures her mouth with his own. It's a bit awkward—he's still shorter than her—yet he is still dominating her, bearing down over her and she can't suppress his insistence. He _expects_ something of her, she realizes, and he thinks she knows what he demands. She hesitates, and he pulls her closer.

Come to me, his movements seem to instruct.

She submits fully, giving and giving and never taking back. That is her duty, that is her purpose. She is Aang's, and no one would ever deny it for a second.

She is in love with life. She is in love with life. She loves her life.

And yet she is not at peace, because _this_—Aang's dominance and insistence and the expectations she must live up to, the world's demand that she must absolutely surrender her whole being and accept subordination so that they might romanticize the Avatar's goodness (they think he deserves her, like she is some _prize_)—_this_ is not peace.

Aang breaks the kiss, positively loving everything that is her, and she closes her eyes, leaning into him, because he has trapped her body in his arms and her heart in his spirit.

She in love with life. She loves her life.

(_This is not peace_).

* * *

Zuko doesn't have a sister anymore. She's lost somewhere in her mind, imprisoned away from him and her father and everything that made her who she was. He hates her (he always has), and she is not his sister anymore, she is not his family anymore.

Mai puts her arm around him, seeking comfort and a break from the monotony around her. Zuko sighs to himself—Mai is always so _bored_—and he keeps thinking.

_Never forget who you are._

You can never deny the bonds of blood.

"Mai," he says slowly, hesitating as he looks into her now intrigued eyes. She seems eager and receptive to whatever he says, as if he is the only dynamic thing in the world. He's the only thing that moves her world, gives her purpose, and she pays rapt attention to him because she has nothing else to do.

It's not the exact audience he really wants, but Iroh's in Ba Sing Se and Mai is physically here now, so he will have to settle for her.

"I keep thinking about everything that happened. And—"

"Zuko, relax," Mai chuckles. "The war's over. You're allowed to chill out and eat fruit tarts every once in a while."

He shakes his head. Why can't she just listen? His life isn't about ordering around servants anymore. It's about saving the world after the Avatar's done his part.

"You weren't there. You don't understand. Azula—Azula—"

Mai's face darkens. "She tried to kill you."

He turns his face away, the shadows clinging to his cheekbones and scar. The shadows are always seeking him out, he thinks, and he moves his face again towards the light, away from the shadows that always drag him down.

"She's broken, Mai." The frankness in his voice startles him—how does he care this much after everything that happened? And yet it's _there_, and Mai of all people should understand because she's Azula's friend too, even if Azula's alone, even if Azula's a raving lunatic confined forever in a solitary cell.

"Fine, Zuko. Let's go."

He raises his eyebrows; he's amazed she has actually agreed to go with him. He's grateful to her, though, because he can't do this alone.

When they finally see Azula, she is in the corner of her dark cell, hair unkempt. As she looks up to see her visitors, Zuko sees from her eyes that Azula is simply _not there_ anymore.

"You," she hisses hoarsely. Her voice is breathy and scratchy, like she has been crying and breathing blue fire for days. She lets a little smoke waft out of her mouth and nose, and though the image is ridiculous, Zuko immediately thinks of her as a fallen dragon, hidden for ages from the very people it bestowed its bending prowess on. Everything about her is fallen and broken and she is simply not there. It scares him more than a sane Azula ever did.

Mai stares blankly at Azula, occasionally straying away her eyes to Zuko, but always returning focus on Azula, that thing that is and isn't the Fire Princess.

"Azula," he whispers.

Upon hearing him say her name, his sister screams. The fire gusts out her nose and mouth, smoke pouring out her ears. Her eyes turn red and yellow, and she loses herself again to tears and impassioned shouts of nothingness. She transforms into an incomprehensible mess, and she's not Azula, she's not his sister.

She has his blood, but she's not his sister. She never was.

Mai gapes at him as he twists one hundred eighty degrees and departs, clinging his arms to his body, as he _himself _becomes the not-Azula. He cries and sends smoke out his nose in a confused flurry of emotion.

She may have his blood, she may be his sister, she may be the Fire Nation and everything he strove for not a month ago, but she never had his heart.

He'll never go back to the old days, those brief fleeting times of crashing beach parties and traveling on palanquins, of eating fruit tarts and wearing a meaningless topknot, because his heart was never, never there.

* * *

"I want you to be with me, Katara. I want you to be with me always."

"What?"

"I have to leave soon." A slight smile. "Come with me."

Before she can answer, he kisses her in front of the whole village. Dinnertime is approaching—the sweet smell of Antarctic fish smoking and sea prunes steaming wafts into her nose as she inhales shallowly, resigned to the fact that she can't break the kiss. Aang holds on too tight, and she knows he'll be hurt. She'll offend him and say she's really not in the mood. So she melts away from the scene of her brother's raised eyebrow, her father's smoldering eyes, her village's gaping mouths.

"She's a lover at so young an age," a woman whispers, and then everyone chatters to each other like songbirds of the Earth Kingdom. She hears some of the younger men sigh at the apparent loss of a potential suitor, and her neck flushes. This is happening so fast, she thinks. She feels exposed, as if she has just finished her bath only to find her clothing missing so that she must flee home stark naked.

She's naked in front of the village, declaring her undying love for the young Avatar without even saying a word or voicing her own opinion. She's kissing someone shorter and younger and purer than her, and she has become important by association.

I will forever be the _Avatar's girl_, she realizes. I'm no longer _Katara_.

The thought sends the world around her crashing to the ground. The sky overhead cracks, falling in shards to the hard-packed snow. She feels the sky-shards cutting into her head and face, tearing apart her poncho and drawing her blood so that it stains the snow. The village people don't flee but continue staring at her with vague intrigue. They observe as her form crumples, the warm fur of her poncho splaying out on the snow, its white feathery edges still gliding down, down, down in the air—

She comes back to reality, and she realizes she's resisting against Aang's iron grip, pushing him away and tearing her head to the side. She's crying—again? Crying again—and no this is not what I want, I don't know what I want anymore, _I don't know who I am_.

She frees herself from him, breathing heavily. The whole village still watches, scandalized. Aang stares at her in horror. She knows what she's just done. But that is­ _her choice_, and she must live with the consequences.

She grasps Aang's left wrist heavily and drags him into her family's tent. One icy look at Hakoda later, the tent is empty save for the two of them. Her fingers loosen and trail along the length of Aang's hand. They trace the faded arrow tattoo in its natural direction, away from him, retreating back into the hunched body of the wildly insecure thing that is she, Katara. She looks at her feet, rubbing her shoe against the back of her opposite calf.

They say each other's names simultaneously. Aang pauses, evidently hurt, but Katara plows along because she has to get it off her chest, because she must choose and finalize her decision. Of all things, Katara is not flaky. She will follow through. She will be merciful. She will be honest.

Frankness will undoubtedly hurt Aang as much as lies do.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, clasping her hands together. It is like she is trying to shrink into the canvas of the tent, to disappear and become just another flake of snow or drop of ocean water.

"I'm not feeling well," she tries to explain. Swallowing, she brings her chin up and gazes into Aang's eyes. She feels her own look soften.

"Go save the world," she instructs. At his questioning glance, she responds, "Your work is never done. And I know it's hard, but I've seen you grow. I know you can do it." Her voice quiets. "I just don't think I can. I'm not ready. The war just ended and I—I don't want to leave home for a while."

"Well, Katara, I'll just stay here!" he objects.

She shakes her head. "No. Aang, the world needs you. I want you to understand. I'm just not ready to travel again. I'm not ready for it to be just—" She waves her hand, trying to find the word "—just _us_ and no one else."

Aang's lips turn down. He parts them slightly in exhale and then runs his tongue over his lower lip. She wonders if it's suddenly dry, now that her lips aren't right there.

"Aang, I'll—maybe—" She lets the promise linger unsaid in the air and smiles gently. Aang smiles too, a little bit, but now _he's_ crying, and now they are collapsing into each other arms, crying and crying their eyes out. She doesn't know what's wrong with her. She loves him, yes, she thought she loved him as a boyfriend, a lover—but she's still confused, she doesn't know, she's not ready to be purely ­_his_, and god they're crying so much it _hurts_.

"I love you," he whispers breathily into her ear.

"Wait for me," she whispers back.

They are two children sharing secrets, clinging to each other and crying into each other's shirts. They are young adults with souls ravaged by war; they are unsure and uncertain about frivolous things like _togetherness _and _love_.

They might pretend otherwise, but they're still children, and they have long lives ahead of them.

"I'll wait." And it's a promise for a lifetime.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So this chapter's a little different--it's purely letters. Originally it was all in italics but I know how evil reading formatted text on the web is. So it's just straight text. Enjoy.

* * *

Rapture

* * *

Katara,

It's been a while, hasn't it? Almost five weeks! Anyway, I've been staying at the Fire Nation palace and helping Zuko out with some treaties. Of course, Zuko was really stressed so I told him he needed a break. We took Appa and went camping on Ember Island. Zuko insisted on using his vacation home for old time's sake so we stayed there and did some Firebending. He's trying to teach me some more lightningbending but I don't know that he's so good at it.

I was bored so I got him to go watch the new version of "The Boy in the Iceberg" the Ember Island Players are putting on currently. It's a lot better than the old version. It has a good ending. It made Zuko a little happier but you know him, he's always dark and miserable when he's bogged down with paperwork. He worries about his girlfriend a lot.

I forget his girlfriend's name—Mae I think? He left her in charge while he's gone. I think Iroh would do a better job, but whatever, as long as I can have some fun with Zuko. We need to see him more often. It's been too long since we've had a reunion with the six of us, with you, Sokka, Suki, Toph, Zuko and I. It's just like those fun times we had with beach parties while we still traveled. I mean, I know we were in the middle of a war, but it was so much easier then than it is now.

Katara, I still really miss you. I hope everything's going well with you and Sokka. Suki's there too, right? Tell her the Avatar bids her hello!

Please respond fast! Zuko's given me one of his best messenger hawks, so you should get this pretty quickly.

-Aang

* * *

Aang,

Hi Aang! It's good to hear you got Zuko some vacation. I'm sure he's got a lot to do with being Fire Lord and all.

Sokka's good! He caught this huge fish the other day and Dad was really proud of him. Then Suki got fed up with how much Sokka was bragging and went and brought home a fish double the size of his the next day. I really love her sometimes. She doesn't hesitate to show Sokka up. The two of them are so funny together. Suki's almost family, really. Dad loves her.

I'm glad to hear you're really concentrating on your bending. By the time I see you again, I want to see your Firebending progress with lightning. I'm sure you'll be able to do it, but just be careful so you don't hurt yourself. You don't want to go too overboard. You have your whole life to master the elements, after all.

What worries me is that Zuko left Mai in charge of the Fire Nation. Some people might get the wrong idea, because her family's a huge part of the old regime, right? She was sort of nice in Ba Sing Se that one time but she doesn't seem like she'd be that invested or interested in the matters of the State. Make sure you tell Zuko to leave Iroh in charge next time. Mai's not exactly material to run a government.

Sorry. Tangent. But yes, I do miss you too. We need to get everyone together again sometime. To tell you the truth, I kind of miss the warm weather. I mean, home is wonderful; it's great to see everyone again and to go fishing all the time. But now Sokka goes more with Suki and Dad than with me. And I miss not having to wear so much clothing! My parka's snuggly but really heavy, but it's the only thing that keeps me warm. How did you ever survive down here with your thin nomad clothes?

Alright, Gran-Gran's calling for me to help her with dinner. Hopefully you get this soon! Only the fastest messenger hawks for Fire Lord Zuko, I guess.

-Katara

PS: Give Zuko a hello for me! I miss him. I haven't seen him in a long time.

* * *

Dear Miss Katara,

This is Iroh writing from Ba Sing Se on behalf of your young friend Miss Toph. She gives her regards to your brother, Miss Suki, you, and all of your family. Miss Toph is staying with me for a few days while her parents tour the city and discuss some important matters with the Earth King. Miss Toph says that she finally worked things out with her esteemed mother and father, whom I had the pleasure of meeting when they dropped by for some lovely jasmine tea. They're lovely people, really, and such good customers! I may have some new lifelong friends.

Miss Toph is telling me now to "cut it with the sentimental crap." She wants to inform you that she was allowed to participate in the Earth Rumble Seven tournament, and won for the third time in a row. She still wears her championship belt wherever she goes, and though it is a bit gaudy (don't tell her I said that), she looks quite dashing for a young lady.

She also wishes for me to tell you that she's traveling to the Fire Nation in two weeks. Apparently my nephew invited Miss Toph and the Bei-Fongs to the palace for some official peace conference, with Miss Toph as an honorary delegate of the Earth Kingdom. I myself have since received an invitation from my nephew, but I will be very busy with the teashop during that time. The Dai Li is renting out the whole place for three days to rest and meet as a whole. Such a large party will necessitate my presence; poor Miss Jin couldn't possibly manage the entire shindig by herself.

Miss Toph is angry with me going off on a tangent, it appears, so I will "get to the point" as Miss Toph so wishes. She hopes to see both you and your brother in the Fire Nation soon, and says that "Twinkletoes" (that poor Avatar) is already in the Fire Nation, as Zuko has informed her in his previous letter.

I am unsure if your family has received their invitation yet, so I will send a copy of Miss Toph's with this messenger hawk. All the formal information you might need is covered within the invitation contents—transportation will be provided for you if you need it.

With many regards (and an affectionate punch from Miss Toph),

Iroh  
Manager of the Jasmine Dragon  
Upper Ring, Ba Sing Se, Earth Kingdom

_Attached copy of Miss Toph's Invitation:_

Regards Honorable Delegates,

Fire Lord Zuko & the Fire Nation welcome you to four days of stay at the palace for the Firesalt Peace Conference. The event occurs from September 31 to October 3 in the Fire Nation capital, where Fire Lord Zuko will officially herald your visit. You are invited as a delegate of your country to help cure the world of its postwar miseries & inspire an era of continuing peace & love. Please respond as soon as possible by messenger hawk to the Fire palace. Should you need transport, the Fire Lord will disperse the Fire Navy to your Nation & provide a way of travel.

Highest Esteem,

Fire Lord Zuko

* * *

Zuko (should I be calling you 'Fire Lord?),

I hope Aang's not giving you too much trouble. Thanks for having patience and teaching him more Firebending. Hopefully he told you I said hello? I sent my last letter to him a few days ago so you should have my greetings by now. It's been a long time since I've seen you, Mr. Fire Lord, but I hope everything is well.

Which brings me to the true point of this letter—the peace conference! Your invitation's a little late in coming (Iroh sent us a copy first), but of course, of course we'll come! The tribe has been building up a lot with the help of Master Pakku (Sokka calls him 'Grampakku,' but I don't know if I could keep a straight face while trying that). Dad's busy being Chief, and Sokka's having the time of his life with Suki down here. I love being home, but it's been so long since I've seen Aang and you…So I talked with Dad about it and he said it's okay.

I'm going to attend your Firesalt Conference as the delegate of the Southern Water Tribe. Are you going to be able to handle Toph and I, Mr. Fire Lord? Because the Bei Fongs are coming as well—Iroh sent a letter that Toph dictated and she simply cannot wait to see you again. You still owe her a life-changing field trip, I believe.

I will be seeing you soon, I hope! A week and a half. Tell Aang I said that I shall be there soon and that I can't wait to see him.

Thank you,

-Katara


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I was deliberating whether to combine this chapter and the next one, but I decided it's better to extend it out a bit instead of giving everybody a 4000+ word chapter. This one's a bit shy of 2000. Enjoy.

* * *

Rapture

* * *

The reunion is not at all what she expects. As she departs the Fire Navy vessel, no one is there to greet her, to grasp her in his arms, to kiss her with an overbearing passion, to quietly place a hand over a scar and thank her for his life. There is no screaming crowd, no gossipers spreading acid with their tongues about lost love and adulterers (she's not married, she's not married, why should she worry about that?).

It's late, a bit past dusk. There's an escort for her, and a palanquin, which she refuses to make use of. Instead she walks through the streets of the capital with a few guards accompanying her to the palace. The city is quiet, but not dead silent—it's late summer, so there are bugs still buzzing in the humid summer air. She hears the warm hum of citizens cleaning up after dinner, the light of candles filtering out of their windows onto the main streets. One family-sized bout of laughter cascades out the skylight of an upper apartment down a side street; the last few echoing notes of a sungi horn mourn the sun's disappearance beyond the horizon.

When she finally reaches the palace, an admiral greets her stiffly and shakes her hand with all the hospitality of a stranger. His smile sends icy shivers down her back, but she puts on a confident front and grins back. As she enters the main lobby of the palace, her mouth opens into a gape. Even though she's been here before for Zuko's coronation, she still can't grasp the exact words to describe her awe of the place. It's very red and very regal.

Royal, she supposes, might be a good word. Royal to the point of pompousness might better describe her setting.

"The Fire Lord is very busy at this hour," comments the admiral. He's Admiral Chan, she thinks. She can't remember his exact name but it must be something like that. She can't bother to recollect that particular tidbit of information at this point.

"Oh," she says quietly. "Well, what about the Avatar?"

Admiral Chan smirks at her. "Oh, Delegate, I'm not quite sure where the Avatar is. He comes and goes as he pleases." The underlying sarcasm in his voice fills Katara with indignation. This admiral obviously still holds prejudice lingering from a lifetime of warring on the other Nations. It annoys her. She'll have to politely ask Zuko to get rid of all the prejudiced, inept scum still in his government.

Well, she _is_ at a peace conference. She might as well 'advise' him on how to bring peace.

"Thank you, Admiral," she replies stiffly, turning away to follow a servant to the guest quarters in the palace.

The servant brings her up a flight of winding steps that seem to ascend forever. Irrationally, she can't help but think that Aang might just ride down that banister forever should he find such a spectacle. She giggles and the servant looks at her curiously as the two of them step into a small hallway.

"Katara!" calls a familiar voice in surprise. A smile, not a dour one to match Admiral Chan's, but a genuine smile, graces her face. Her visage positively glows as she sweeps around one hundred eighty degrees to take in the entirety of that beautiful young child she so loves. Aang scampers to her and she takes him in her arms, caressing the arrow that runs from his neck to his forehead.

"How are you, how are you? I missed you so much!"

She doesn't respond, just mumbles his name quietly into his shoulder, transfixed by his joy. As she loosens her grasp around the young Avatar, he starts to lean forward, taken in by all that is her, wanting nothing more than to have her, finally, after not seeing her for so long even though she was _always_ his—

"Katara," whispers a tired voice. She whips around, completely leaving Aang's touch, and wears a mildly awestruck face. In the five weeks she hasn't seen Zuko, he has grown. He looks like the incarnation of the palace, red and regal and so very, very royal. He doesn't look like the Zuko she water-whipped into submission, or threatened death in case of treachery, or granted long-overdue forgiveness to with an embrace like that of the sun.

"It's good to see you again," he observes. The slight nuance in his voice reminds her—he's not the Fire Lord, he's just _Zuko_.

He may not look like Zuko but he sounds exactly like him, and she knows he's still there, just buried under robes and paperwork and formality.

"Fire Lord," she smarts half-sarcastically as she goes into a bow. He in turn bows to her, offering her the same respect she regards him with. Except his respect is genuine, not playfully mocking. She shakes her head at his stupidity and closes the distance between them by entrapping him in her arms. His body becomes rigid and she just laughs.

"Still as stiff and humorless as ever," she jests. He rolls his eyes.

The servant coughs awkwardly and the two relinquish each other to the world.

"Go sleep, then," he instructs her. She sighs and follows the servant to her quarters.

Aang grabs her hand as she leaves. Smiling bitterly, her hand flows out of his clutch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she promises.

He nods, disappointed, but he'll wait. He promised.

He'll wait a lifetime if he has to.

* * *

Her toes curl as his foot brushes her own, nudging the back of her heel in an attempt at comfort. She shifts nondescriptly to conceal her irritation, rolling her shoulders up to her ears and clenching her eyes shut. With a soft sigh, she releases the tension, and her body fans out, freed; her shoulders drop back towards the floor, and her eyelashes flourish up to the ceiling. She relaxes into the cushy chair, ignoring the look from her left as the foot once again lightly touches her own. She wants to kick it away, but now's not the time—they're negotiating the future of the entire world, for Spirit's sake! Now is not the time to sort out highly personal issues when the world needs the both of them, the whole of them.

Now is not the time, she thinks, and withdraws her foot to the far side of the chair where his short legs cannot reach her.

She stares pointedly at the minor Earth Nation delegate now speaking about carving up the colonized islands between the Fire Nation and the Earth Nation. Realistically, some Earth Nation islands have been under control of the Fire Nation for so long, it seems that those selfsame islands are Fire Nation lands, exempting their proximity to the motherland's enemy. The discussion of the situation fascinates Katara, and she keeps rapt her attention so that she can try her very best to absorb everything into her brain to process and contribute to a solution.

This is the future, she thinks. It's not fighting anymore, it's thinking and negotiating.

Aang keeps his entire focus on her, though. He reaches his hand out to her, gently strokes her hair with a tattooed hand. As the predicament of the Earth Nation islands intrigue her, her hair draws in Aang. His feet make no secret bids for attention anymore, because he cannot reach her feet—now he is touching her, fingering her hair, staring at her face and waiting for a response that she cannot give.

Now is not the time.

She shakes her head and directs his hands to his lap. He puts on the most despairing face she's seen—he is begging her, and she hates herself as she turns away, jerking her head towards the delegate who is currently speaking his piece. Aang will not pay attention to the most important thing, because his most important thing is her, Katara, and he wants closure, no, he wants reconciliation, rekindling, romance.

His hand is now on her arm, dragging her back—look at me, please, I _love_ you—and the two of them crash back into reality as the room lays silent, all focus now on the Avatar who is looking off elsewhere.

"Aang," she hisses, "answer the delegate."

"Uh—I—" He tears his eyes around the room, scanning the long table for any distraction. But there is none, and he must respond, because he is peacekeeper, because he is the world. He smiles weakly.

"Y-you know, I really don't know—"

"The Avatar is right. Ceding those islands to either Nation is folly," cuts in a voice, Zuko's voice, and it is strong and authoritative and confident, and it is so strange to hear. "Most of us are still hanging in indecision. We cannot settle on a solution so easily. Perhaps we should continue with this issue tomorrow after we have all slept on it."

A murmur of agreement hums quietly, and Katara lets loose a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Oh Spirits," she breathes quietly. With a quick glance at Zuko, she mouths a "Thank you."

And then Aang's body blurs her vision. He loosens his embrace and she smoothes the worry off his face with a gentle hand.

"I need to go," she says, and with reluctance, he relinquishes her. She takes her leave and exits the negotiations room. As soon as she is out of earshot, she collapses into a niche behind a suit of samurai armor and pours her soul out onto the floor.

Tearbender, she thinks, and cries heavier.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is like...my most favorite chapter ever. I love this writing. And it's finally got some Zutara, yays! And I really appreciate all the reviews. Ego boost = best thing ever. xDDD

To clarify: This story is slow on the Zutara but only because it's an in-canon setting. To get to Zutara, you have to deal with Maiko and Kataang fairly. You can't just let those two relationships dissolve--it's a gradual sort of thing.

Eh, whatevs. Enjoy. BTW - 2500 words, wooot.

* * *

Rapture

* * *

On the final night there's a ball. It's no small extravaganza—everyone visiting the city and everyone living in the city is invited. As Katara enters the grand ballroom, she cannot help but gasp in awe at its enormous size. It's so ridiculously huge, the ceilings so vastly high, that she imagines a certain emptiness to it. The ballroom is grand and showy and everything it should be but Katara shakes her head because this isn't a dance—not a real dance, not like that one time in the cave where she and Aang and all the Firebender children danced and discovered their freedom.

She smiles to herself, her thin lips breaking free of their apprehensive frown, as she spots Aang. He comes bounding over to her like a dog to its master, and she pictures him as a puppy—always happy, always there, always greeting her and loving her and wanting to play. After a second she thinks that she shouldn't assign Aang the role of a dog, because he's so much more—his freedom is true freedom because it has no limits. Aang has never been a _dog_ to be put on a _leash_.

In his exuberance Aang scoops Katara up in his arms and practically glides into the center of the dance floor. It doesn't matter that he hasn't asked her to dance; she dances anyway. How could she resist him and his freedom? They are flying, a whirl of royal blue (a beautiful dress, one of Katara's mother's old ones) and vibrant orange (the traditional formal monk attire). They become a greenish-brownish blur, and as the song's tempo increases, Katara starts to feel dizzy.

Then the key change comes, and the band hammers away with frenzied intensity. Katara gives up trying to keep up with the footwork—she lets Aang's deft hands guide her as the two glide across the floor, a tornado amid the formality of all the red-covered Fire nobles. She feels like a helpless bird flitting about in the center of a storm. A storm amid red skies, red floors and red ceilings that are too high and red people all over—and she in the center, a tiny little thing turning and twisting so fast that she doesn't know up from down anymore. Is that the roof? Is that the sidewall?

Is that the floor? Why yes, it must be, for her feet have stopped their crazed pitter-patter and she is quite stationary. Aang beams at her and the room around him, joining in the applause coming from all the dancers. The sound is enormous—in this cathedralish room the sound echoes and echoes like voices in her head sometimes do. She rubs her head, gives a weak smile to Aang, and stumbles over to the side of the room where chairs lie in waiting as a place of refuge for weary dancers. She collapses into one with a contented sigh and simply does not care about the dirty looks she gets for her unladylike posture.

She snuggles quietly into the plush chair, giving a quick massage to her temples as the band strikes up another lively beat. Katara stays in that position quite contentedly for some time. Eventually her eyelids droop and she feels very warm despite her somewhat uncomfortable attire.

A hand on her shoulder jostles her awake. Scared, she launches herself out of the chair and into the hard chest of someone, someone who is dressed nicely in red, who is considerably taller than her but not altogether unfamiliar. She murmurs into his chest, looks up at his laughing eyes and angry scar that's not so bad, that's faded a bit and not so severe as she always has seen it.

He chuckles. "Tired?" He's not smiling, but the corners of his lips tug up just a little bit.

She knows him enough to know that, while he's not really comfortable at this type of function, he's amused enough being with her. The realization travels through her like electricity, and her head tilts back even more with a little sparkle and spunk.

"It's been a long day, but I'll live. You, however…" She doesn't finish her sentence. The teasing undertone pleases Zuko. He breaks out into a full, unrestrained smile. Her neck flushes a tad.

His eyes playfully glance around before he whispers into her ear (his breath is so hot, her neck's temperature rises even more), "I might be dead by the end of the night. No one here likes me."

She grins, about to say something.

He catches her before she can speak. "You and Aang don't count." He gestures vaguely around the room with his hand. "All of them. All the nobles don't like the new balance of power. It's not in their favor."

"And you really think they'd assassinate you tonight, here, in front of hundreds of people? Especially in the presence of a Master bender such as myself?" She's serious and joking at the same time. Her false egotism makes his grin widen. She marvels quietly at his teeth, how wide his mouth stretches. His lips are flat but his teeth are full and white, all that a good smile should be. A smile like Aang's, except so much more valuable because it's so rarely seen.

His smile fades, just a little. He becomes aware of where he is and who he is holding—they are so close, so stationary, in so public a place. It is some wonder that Mai has not come marching over and pinned Zuko to the wall with her shruiken.

"I think," he begins, "we might discuss this better while dancing."

Katara tilts her head, considers her situation—she's still cuddled up against the Fire Lord's body, for La's sake!—and her eyes bulge.

"Yes, let's. Quickly."

They dance, and Katara is relieved as the band strikes up a slower song. She unconsciously shifts closer to him—Zuko's concern is very private and she doesn't want any eager eavesdroppers listening in to their conversation. She feels protective of him, of the man who is nearly a foot taller than her, who is the leader of an entire nation, who is a skilled warrior in his own right. She still holds onto this primal urge to defend him, because he is so essential, because he is so _precious_ to her. The word echoes in her mind, and though it is unexpected it is not unwelcome.

"So who wants you dead?" she jokes, but her look is solemn.

His mouth twitches. He almost laughs, but he holds it back. "Everyone. Well. Mostly Fire Nation."

She frowns. "Well, I won't let them kill you."

His teeth show again in one of those rare radiant smiles. She thinks she is very fortunate to see so very many of his smiles in so short a time span.

"That wouldn't happen anyway."

"Then consider me an extra precaution."

Her eyes dart suspiciously around the room. Her breath hitches as she catches the harsh glare of a certain woman—in fact, the very same woman who is supposed to be _dating_ the man Katara is holding very closely at the moment.

Frightened, Katara lowers her eyes quickly. She melts into Zuko's arms, this time wanting to be protected rather than protective. Her change in demeanor disorients Zuko.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I think someone wants me dead, too."

His jaw hardens. "Who?"

But Katara doesn't answer him. She just stays secured in the Fire Lord's arms, knowing that she's digging herself deeper into her own grave. She remains snuggled against him anyway. It's comfortable and she doesn't want it to end. Well, that and she doesn't want to die at the hands of a jealous girlfriend. If she's with Zuko, then Mai won't dare touch Katara.

"Let's dance that way," Katara mutters. Her feet lead Zuko to the far side of the room. Her head stays bowed against Zuko's chest. They don't speak. Zuko's question lingers unanswered and forgotten in the air.

They stay like that for some time, even as the next songs play on. When the band strikes up a faster tune, Katara looks up with a muffled yawn. She spots Toph not too far away. The young Earthbender is looking right at her. Katara thinks that maybe Toph is seeing right through her. Katara rolls her shoulders uncomfortably.

Zuko rubs her arm. She smiles and suppresses another yawn, previously having failed to realize how tired she is.

"I think you're done for the night," Zuko says, and he takes her by the shoulders and steers her towards the ballroom door.

Katara doesn't miss Toph's knowing look. Toph's blind eyes bore holes in Katara's own. Then, just barely out of her peripheral, Katara observes Toph's quick nod of approval.

And then Zuko and she are out in the hallway. The door closes heavily behind them, and the music fades away. All that's there is the quiet flicker of the dim lanterns that dot the hall's length, the faint music, her deep breaths, his quiet heartbeat—she hears it because he's so close, and she feels it resound through her belly. She fights the urge to dance to the drumbeat of Zuko's heart—it gets faster and faster. She feels her own pulse match his.

Their breaths are labored and short as they stand there, his arms over her shoulders, she standing with her back to him. She can't see his face. She doesn't want to see his face.

She made a promise—and he has his honor. Not now. Maybe in a few months or years or lifetimes.

The moment passes. He lets go of her. She subconsciously laments the loss of warmth.

"Goodnight, Katara. Get some sleep."

Then the door opens, the bright music blares, and he leaves. The door slams shut once again. It resounds in the pit of her stomach like his overbearing heartbeat had.

With a sigh, she guides herself back to her quarters.

Let that door remain shut, she thinks. It has to stay closed.

She falls unceremoniously onto her puffy bed.

Katara laughs at herself as she further perfects her ability to tearbend. She doesn't mind the wet splotches on her pillow so much as the knot in her stomach.

* * *

It's sunrise—the sky is brilliant and beautiful and so fitting for a parting. Katara wants to soak it all in. This moment is so lovely.

Except that it's not, because it's a moment of farewell. She is going home. She is leaving everyone again. She wants to cry. But even more she wants to go home. She misses home. She thinks she misses home. But what exactly is 'home?'

Home is a bison's back, she tells herself. That's where her family is.

Except she can't do that. She's still not ready to commit herself fully to Aang. He's only twelve (almost thirteen), and she's fifteen. She's _not ready_ for marriage, for commitment. But she doesn't know where her home is either.

Home is dad and Sokka and Suki. That home will be home enough for a time.

With tears brimming in her eyes she takes Aang in her arms and clutches him to her desperately. She wants to melt into him but she can't because her heart and her head are so crazy right now.

They don't really say anything. They just hold each other. They don't kiss—Katara doesn't want it and Aang doesn't want to push her away. Whatever they have, whatever _this_ is, whether it is intimacy or friendship or siblinghood, it doesn't matter. It is pure love, and it is a farewell, and it is painful.

At long last Katara releases him. "Go," she says softly. "I'll see you again."

His intense eyes stare into hers. "Yes. Always."

And then it's Toph's turn. She doesn't accept a hug. She just kind of looks at Katara as Aang skips away to give his goodbyes to other people.

The two girls—sisters, really—stand there.

"Tell Sokka I said hi," Toph orders. Her voice is rough but there's a degree of misery and resignation behind it. Sudden understanding strikes Katara—she hadn't noticed before, because she'd been so focused on _Aang's_ crush, but she finally knows. Aang wasn't the only one who became infatuated. Aang isn't the only one suffering unrequited love.

"You know what, I will be _absolutely sure_ to let him know."

Toph smiles. They stand there for another few seconds. A captain calls out to Katara—it's time for the ship to leave.

As she turns around, Toph's hand catches Katara's.

"I'll tell him goodbye for you." Though she is blind the look is so knowing, so intimate, so deep, that Katara cannot bear to tear her eyes away. Katara knows exactly who "him" is.

Her lips parted slightly, she exhales. "Thank you. And tell him… Tell him—"

Her words stop. The captain calls again.

"Tell him to write," Katara finishes.

"Well, that was lame," comments Toph. She waves goodbye.

As she boards the ship, Katara turns again to the bloody sky and prays for a speedy journey home.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Letters again. Yay.

BTW, thanks for everyone reviewing/putting this story on your favorites/story alerts. It's making me blush. Heee.

And to answer some reviewer conerns: This story's a Zutara, with (unfortunately) some Maiko and Kataang. There will be Sukka and Tooka hints here and there, but for the most part there won't be more than that. Sorry to disappoint. D:

* * *

Rapture

* * *

Katara,

I'm sure you are home by now as it's been a few days since you left. I missed the opportunity to give you a proper goodbye. Between all the other nobles and Mai, I was very busy those last few hours of the conference. Overall, I believe it was a success.

Anyhow, it was good to see you again. Thank you for an evening of dancing and a week of debating. You sure know your policymaking. Are you really certain you grew up in a secluded little village? Because it seems to me that you prepared yourself a lot better than I did. Granted, I was with Aang on Ember Island the week before the conference.

The Ember Island Players butchered our story as usual—I blame them for my poor preparation before the conference. Their idiocy is enough to render even a tactical genius like your brother useless. If it weren't for Aang, I myself would immediately initiate a wide-sweeping reform of dramatic arts on Ember Island. The play amuses him, though, so I guess it's not an option.

Thank you once again for coming! I wish we could see each other more often. I know Aang misses you already. He's leaving tomorrow for the Earth Kingdom with Toph.

So, Ms. Southern Tribe Delegate, I bid thee adieu.

-Zuko

* * *

Zuko,

…Wow. 'I bid thee adieu.' Where'd you get that, 'Love Amongst the Dragons'? You're such a dork. How did you ever end up Fire Lord?

Oh yeah, I helped you defeat the other heir to the throne, promptly putting her in her place when you couldn't. You fool.

Yes, I miss seeing you more as well. I know, I know. Aang wanted me to travel with him. I would've been there with you two a lot earlier, but I'm not really ready for heavy traveling. Even that little excursion to your lovely home made me long for my own family.

I guess nine months away from your home, traveling on a bison and trying to save the world, makes you really homesick.

At any rate, Mr. Fire Lord, I've written too much. Unlike your royal rear, I don't have servants waiting on me hand and foot, so I must prepare some breakfast for the family. Suki just entered the kitchen and told me to tell you that she gives her best to you and that Sokka apologizes for his sister's excessive moodiness during her stay.

Pfft. Stupid Sokka. I have a brother to go and pummel, so if you excuse me, I'll just be sending back your messenger hawk now.

-Katara

* * *

Katara,

Me? A 'dork' and a 'fool'? As the Fire Lord, I take that as an insult. I am offended, Miss Water Tribe Delegate.

I hope you weren't too hard on your brother. You can really hurt people when you have the mind to do it. Tell him that I hear him and that I really don't mind. I know when to cut out and when to respect certain…dispositions that some women wear during certain times. Ahem.

As for homesickness…you have no idea. Try three years, and then get back to me.

(You'll be married in less time than that, won't you…?)

Bid Sokka hello, and don't pound too hard on him. Write back soon.

-Zuko

* * *

Zuko,

Oh, most honorable Mr. Fire Lord, you can go stuff it. I pound my brother when I want, when he deserves it. Suki even agreed to it and let me tousle him around a bit before she decided to get rough with him and—uh, I left the room after that.

But even if you are the Fire Lord, I don't take orders from you. Besides, you are a dork. You know you liked 'The Boy in the Iceberg,' because it portrays you spot-on. You're a theater junkie, aren't you?

…Three years? Oh monkeyfeathers, I forgot myself for a minute. Sorry, Zuko. I never mean anything personally. It's all in good fun. But what are you jabbing me about marriage for? Who says I have to be married at sixteen? I've got a bit of a life before marriage if you don't mind!

-Katara

PS: I wrote back soon. Your messenger hawk is just slow. Sokka wants to know if Toph ever sent you Hawkie? Sokka misses him. Besides, Hawkie is fast.

* * *

Katara,

As Fire Lord I have initiated an official rescue search for Hawkie. My best men are scouring the globe high and low, north and south for the bird. Once we find him, he will be sent to the South Pole. Tell Sokka to expect the bird within the month.

-Zuko

PS: A 'theatre junkie'? I appreciate the fine art of drama and enjoy both its narrative and aesthetic appeal. Someone like you who never watched plays every year could never fathom the true beauty of the art. It is not 'dorkiness' per se but cultural enlightenment.

PPS: Don't freak out about marriage. You're a strong woman and I'm sure your father will be happy to let you make your own way.

* * *

Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe,

Fire Lord Zuko ordered a search and rescue of the messenger hawk 'Hawkie' as a first priority mission. We have retrieved your beloved bird and we are sending him to your home in the South with this message. Your esteemed Hawkie bears our greatest regards. We hope our timing has been sufficient.

-The Eastern Shippers, Fire Navy Division under Admiral Zhong

* * *

Zuko,

They found him! Unbelievable. Sokka was so happy to see Hawkie again. He's letting me borrow Hawkie to send a thank you note to you. Because Sokka is a lazy bum, I'm writing it for him. Believe me, he appreciates your efforts. Props to Admiral Zhong's Eastern Shippers, he said. Whatever that means.

As for your other comments…Marriage? Why would I be concerned about marriage? Didn't I say that I'd choose my own path?

…Spirits, Zuko, in all honesty, the prospect of marriage scares me. I turned fifteen a little bit ago and I've got less than a year before I come of age. I don't know what my Dad will have me do. Gran-Gran's been eyeing some of the men in the tribe and hinting at hunting out potential suitors, but I'm just not ready for that. I think I might have to travel again, just to escape that crazy fate.

Maybe I'll even come and see you. Who knows? And then you can tell me all about your 'cultural enlightenment' in detail. And I will still point out that you're a total dork.

Because you are, you know.

-Katara

* * *

Katara,

I have so much paperwork to do it's coming out my ears. And yet I find myself writing to you anyway.

But I must have you know: Me, a dork? I think not. Perhaps your brother.

And your sixteenth birthday? Don't worry about getting married off. I'll schedule a birthday festival in your honor and I'll have a whole reunion of our little gang. Then you'll be away from your tribe and you won't have to worry about getting married.

And you'll be able to stay in the palace as long as you like. You could even be the permanent ambassador.

…I wouldn't mind.

-Zuko

* * *

Zuko,

Thank you. For helping Aang, for hosting the conference, for finding Hawkie. Thank you for everything.

-Katara


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Warning, this chapter's a lil' heavy on the Maiko. Yet keep in mind that, in the end, this will be a Zutara. :)

* * *

Rapture

* * *

He kisses her with affection as they fall onto his bed. They land with a soft poof into the silken sheets, his back against the bedding and her body half on his torso. She trails her mouth from his lips to his jaw line and below his neck. Her black hair splays out across his shirt, and his eyes soften as she snuggles her face into the place where his neck meets his shoulders.

"Mm," she mumbles happily, and he can feel her nose breathing in his scent, the tip of it just barely grazing his skin. Just a few hours ago it was a knife and not a nose that he'd felt—they'd been sparring. And then Mai got bored and wanted to do something else.

"Mai," he says as she leans up ever so slightly, tugging back the tatters of his shirt to run her fingers experimentally along his shoulders. She silences his insistences with another kiss, perhaps a little more forceful than he'd like, but at least she's showing some emotion. These past few weeks, she's gotten a little better at expressing herself, and he's so very attracted to her in those rare times when she reveals how strong of a woman she is. He surrenders and responds to her aggression with a gentle acceptance.

All too soon she bites his lip, hard—his mouth starts to bleed—and she pulls away.

"Zuko," she intones with just a little inflection in her voice—he can tell she's perturbed by the way her voice is about half a pitch higher. "Zuko, what is this?"

She runs her fingers across the scar on his chest—he's finally taken off the bandages, and she hasn't seen his bare chest since before he left her the first time. She gives it a little poke, and he hisses in pain.

"Another scar? You told me Azula hurt you, but you never told me she shot lightning _through your heart_!"

Zuko cringes. He hadn't told Mai because he didn't want her to worry and because he wanted to put that Agni Kai with Azula behind him. What had happened there was only for him and Azula—and Katara, of course Katara, she had _saved_ him—to know about. It had been surreal, but so very violent and angry. Exhilarating and terrifying, like redirecting lightning. That feeling isn't something he wants to share with anyone, because it is such a wrong, unnatural state of being.

And he had nearly died. Mai doesn't need to know that either.

But now she does (…_monkeyfeathers_).

He rests his hand on top of hers. He'd never told her because she'd never be able to understand. "It's in the past," he comforts. "It doesn't matter."

"You'd die from something like that," Mai deadpans. She takes her hand out from underneath his, stares into his eyes with something like disappointment and fury and concern and suspicion all rolled into one. "What really happened to you, Zuko?"

He casts his eyes down, his hands falling on either side of his torso so that his scarred chest is exposed to the world. He hates to tell her this because she'd never understand just how necessary it was for him to take that lightning bolt.

"Zuko—"

He tells her anyway, because she demands the truth, and he can't lie to her.

"Azula tried to hit Katara and I blocked the bolt. I almost died. Katara healed me, and I was able to live." He doesn't even realize it until now, but he's gentling touching the scar over his heart once again, feeling the electricity pounding through him and then the cooling touch of Katara's healing. He misses the feel of the water on his skin, the experience of rebirth and coming back to life even though he was almost gone.

"What?" she shouts, and as soon as it's out of her mouth she seems shocked by the force behind it, her eyes wide and her eyebrows about to pop off her head. "You tried to kill yourself to—to save that—"

He knew she wouldn't understand.

"Do you know what the world would be without you?" Her shouts continue, and she is one huge emotional _mess_. "Do you know what _I_ would be without you? It already happened once and I—and I—"

"Mai." He cups her face in one hand. The other remains steadfastly on his scarred heart.

She shoves his hand away.

"I _love_ you, Zuko, and yet you'd kill yourself anyway for some filthy primitive _peasant_!"

He propels his body forward in heated anger, bringing his feet to the ground so he can stand. His movement forces Mai off of him, and she nearly collapses on the ground.

"Don't you ever call Katara that," he growls.

"Why not?" she spits back, throwing her arms up in the air. It seems that all her emotion is finally tumbling out of her in one fell swoop. "Why can't I say what I like about her? She _is_ a peasant! Maybe it's because—maybe you don't—you'd never give your life for me, and you never tell me _anything_!"

"Mai," he says. Her words cut into him like a second lightning bolt. And then he smiles. Something's so very ridiculously amusing about this whole situation. "I don't tell you anything? Maybe you just never listen. You just want to sit around and do nothing."

She gives him a death glare. "You know what I want? I want to know why you spend the whole night by some other girl's bedside, why you insist upon dancing with her for the evening while the whole Fire Nation watches, why you keep sending letters to her even though you just saw her _three weeks ago_, and why you'd sacrifice your life to save her and then not even tell me you almost _died_!"

This impassioned speech rushes out of her like a waterfall of emotion, and by the end she is screaming. As she finishes her last word, silence reigns in the room. The air is uncomfortably hot. As Zuko stands towering over his livid girlfriend, he can hear the faint chirps of the cicada-flies echoing into the oncoming night. He closes his eyes, cherishing the peaceful chirps that reverberate in his ears.

"I didn't tell you about it because I knew you wouldn't understand. I'm sorry, Mai, but it's in the past. I'm alive, aren't I?"

She grits her teeth, her fists clenching and unclenching. He watches with faint amusement and mild attraction as the corners of her eyes twitch. She's so very passionate when she's angry.

"Zuko," she whispers, and she shocks him with her sudden change in volume, "Please just tell me the truth," —her eyes turn to stare straight into his and he does not dare to look away— "Do you love someone else?"

"What?" he sputters. "What are you even _talking_ about?"

She closes her eyes and tears snake out of the corners of her eyelids. She seems to come to a decision, and then her eyes snap open again, and before he knows what happens, Mai smacks him straight across the face. His cheek stings and his lip starts to bleed again as she runs out of his room. He falls to his knees, confused and heartbroken. He wipes the blood on the back of his hand, wincing as the sour coppery taste overtakes his mouth.

He thinks that he probably should've expected Mai's anger. It's just another mistake to add on to his lifetime's culmination of wrongs, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this took so long! It's short, and I don't know if it's really in character. I don't know. It may change. Please tell me what you think.

* * *

Rapture

Chapter 7

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The next few months are stressful beyond belief. He is barely able to keep his correspondence with Aang and Katara anymore because everything gets so busy. Firebenders gather together secretly and rise up—it sickens him to lead forces against his own people, but he knows it's necessary. The security of the government depends upon its authority. He cannot have proud nobles riling up the farmers to rebel against the government. Already there has been an attempt to end his life.

In the most recent revolt, he suffered an injury to his calf. He returns home beaten, bruised, and bloody. He has become run-down. Someone else is running the civil war campaigns now. He is not fit enough to lead the charge.

One half of his nation does not want him. The other half does not need him.

He feels sick.

The tenth day home he receives a welcome distraction—a letter from Katara, after nearly a month of no letters at all.

He unfurls the scroll, licking the anticipation off his moist lips. His sickness returns to him as he reads through the scrawled handwriting.

_Zuko,_

_I know it's been forever and I know you're probably busy but I really need your help._

_A lot of things have happened since Aang left the South Pole and since the peace conference. Some people seem to think that Aang is no longer coming back to see me ever again. I mean, the old tribe still loves me, but the people who came from the North don't know me that well, and they kind of…suspect things of me?_

_Dad's been away in the North the past month or two, and I haven't heard from him in a while. Sokka's on Kyoshi, so Gran-Gran and Pakku have been leading the tribe. They're really preoccupied right now and have lots of things to worry about. Things like—well, Gran-Gran's sick. Really, really sick._

_So. Yeah. I've been trying to not bother Gran and Pakku, but something crazy happened. This Waterbender from the North sort of started hanging around me and I didn't think anything of it, but, well—_

_I'm sixteen in two weeks. And I'm still not ready for adulthood. I still want to live a little._

_I didn't accept, but he's persistent, and he publicly announced our engagement yesterday morning to the tribe. Without my consent._

_Of course Gran and Pakku are thrilled for me. Gran is especially ecstatic. She keeps talking about planning the wedding and seeing me on the happiest day of my life. She's so happy she gets to see my wedding before she, well…_

_I don't have the heart to tell her it's not what I want. Gran's so happy she'll finally get to see her line continue on. She keeps telling me about how, when she first came to the South, she feared she wouldn't be able to marry and pass on her line because of what she'd done in the North, but now look where she's come—her son the Chief, her grandson and granddaughter friends and teachers of the Avatar._

_But, well, I don't know. I'm selfish. I'm so selfish I sicken myself._

_Gran deserves to be happy. You'd think I'd know that. I'm such a coward._

_I love Gran but I'm not ready for this. I don't know what to do. I just remember that you said I could come and stay with you, once. I'm so sorry for bothering you about this. I just need some time. Maybe. I don't know._

_Please respond quickly. I miss your letters._

_-Katara.

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_

_Katara,_

_I'd ask if you want transportation, but there's no time. I've already dispatched a ship that will take you from the South Pole to the Fire Nation. It should be there any day. I'll meet you on Ember Island by the end of the week—the Fire Nation's not so safe right now, but Ember Island is relatively peaceful. You'll be safe there. You can stay for as long as you like._

_Before you leave though, think about what you're doing. Talk to your grandmother. She's has her own problems, but more than anything, she cares about you. Please at least talk to her. I can't stand just stealing you away when your grandmother and your tribe need you most._

_And yet, I can't stand you being used for something you can't handle. I'll take you away for a bit, as long as you like._

_If you change your mind, then by all means stay home. But please don't waste your life. I can't stand the thought of you sacrificing your own happiness anymore than you already have. You deserve better._

_I'll see you soon._

_-Zuko

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_

_Zuko,_

_How can I ever repay you for all you have done? I think I may be indebted to you all my life._

_The ship came yesterday, but I talked with Gran-Gran and Pakku a lot before leaving. They'll have a lot of things to sort out because I can't handle it on my own. I'm afraid I made things worse. Actually, I know I did. I'm a coward. I don't know how I'll live with myself for a while. I might not see Gran for a long time, or longer. It's scary. Why am I running away? I'm just sickening myself more._

_But then I remember that I get to see your royal pompous rear and I know I'm all right. Really, who wouldn't be amused at the thought of seeing the Fire Lord gush over theatre?_

_The steward keeps saying we won't be there for a week and a half, but I know we'll be there soon. I'm not a Waterbender for nothing._

_See you even sooner,_

_Katara_


	8. AN

A/N: Hey all, if you're still reading, I'm planning on finishing this fic! ...Just taking a really long time to do it. There's maybe 3-4 chapters left?

Anyone, thanks to those who've kept reading, or stumbled on this fic somewhere along the way. Keep your eyes open, updates will be coming soon!


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